Ariadne closed the distance between them to lay her hand on his shoulder. The welcomed weight eased the tightness in his throat. Though he didn’t speak aloud, the knot there had grown larger and larger the longer he thought about it.
“I know he’s proud of you,” Ariadne said, and even though Azriel was not certain of whom she referred to, he nodded. She squeezed his shoulder a bit. “I saw your father.”
The air grew thin at that. One hand on Mhorn’s soft nose, Azriel looked up at her as he scrambled to catch up to what she was saying. He already knew that she had seen him on his way to save him inAuhla. This was something they’d discussed numerous times. But by the way she’d hesitated to say those four words, he sensed she was not referring to the night of her rescue.
“Oh, this will be interesting.” Razer lowered his belly to the snow as though settling in for a bedtime story and lay his head a little closer to them, providing the warmth needed to reduce Ariadne’s incessant shivering. Likewise, Almandine crossed to the great blue dragon and snuggled him, draping her long neck over the top of his head. His golden eyes crossed as he looked up at her in a mixture of annoyance and fondness.
Azriel threw them both a withering glare before turning back to his wife, who now crouched beside him. He asked aloud, “What are you talking about?”
“The night of the ritual.” Ariadne’s brows lowered as she stared at a distant place in an attempt to recall the information. “I had a vision of sorts, I think.”
“Sounds like you need to talk to Phulan,” Razer cut in. “More thanhim,anyway.”
There was never any peace with that dragon around. Azriel cut him another sharp look before refocusing on his wife. “And you saw my father?”
“I saw…everyone.” Ariadne bit her lower lip, uncertainty dripping from her as she turned wide eyes up to him as though expecting him to not believe her. When he did not speak, she sucked in a deep breath and continued, “There is more to you and me than either of us believed. Our being bonded mates is not a coincidence.”
Something about that didn’t sit right with Azriel. The idea that their lives had been planned awoke something deeply protective of their love. “I’m not understanding.”
“I saw the Underworld.”
Oh, that definitely didn’t sit right. Only this time, it made Azriel’s stomach churn in a grotesque combination of bile and heat.
Before he could lose himself to the thoughts that plagued him around Ariadneeverseeing the Underworld, she plowed forward, “Your mother and father were there together, as was Alek Nightingale with a Golden Rose from nearly a hundred years ago, who died. I sawhismother—another Golden Rose—beside a dhemon. And there were so many more pairs. Dhemons standing beside their Golden Roses.”
Azriel gaped at her. “But…why?”
“The High Priestess in Laeton always said that the Golden Rose was Keon’s chosen.” Ariadne’s fingers curled around the hem of her woolen cloak. “I think Keon has been trying to end this war for a long time.”
Air burning in his throat, Azriel stroked Mhorn’s nose absently—the last remnant of the father who’d fought back against the encroaching, consuming darkness of a broken bond to try and fix what he hadn’t even broken. “Are you saying that if it weren’t for Keon, we wouldn’t be—”
“I am saying that it is no coincidence that I was named the Golden Rose on myseconddebut,” Ariadne said, taking his free hand in hers and holding it firm. “The same year thatyouwere appointed as my guard. It was no coincidence that your parents met. No coincidence that Alek Nightingale was always treated as an outcast, even by his father.”
He wanted none of this. The idea that his love for—gods, his bondto—Ariadne was anything less than his own physiology or desires felt vile. His devotion to his wife would always be purelyhis, and he would accept no god’s influence. For if he accepted that Ariadne had been given to him…that meant that Keon could take her away.
And Azriel would wage war on the Underworld if that were to ever occur.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Azriel slid his hand along Mhorn’s deep red scales.
After all, they had come to clear out the dead and put the dragons who were unable to be moved to rest. Discussing the likelihood that Keon had any hand in their relationship was not part of what Azriel expected or wanted.
“Because I wanted to tell you,” Ariadne explained, “that your father is aware of what we have done here. They all know. And they are all proud of what we have accomplished—as I am certain Mhorn is as well.”
Azriel swallowed hard. “Do you think Mhorn is with him now?”
Ariadne’s brows raised, her lips curling into a small smile. “I know he is.” And before Azriel could ask for more details, she added, “I saw Kall, too. With Bindhe.”
Well,fuck.
At that, Azriel pressed his fists against his eyes. He sucked in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly, a low whimper escapinghim before he could hold it back. It was all too much. The loss. The pain. The juxtaposition of hope and fear for the future.
“Come now,dhomin,” Razer said with a low rumble. “Let’s put him to rest.”
It took several more minutes for Azriel to finally rise beside Mhorn and turn to the blue dragon. Razer made no remarks regarding his slow progress; instead, he waited patiently as Azriel said his final goodbyes to his father’s bondheart. Such a lack of exchanges were at once welcomed and painful. The only reason for the silence between them was the mutual heartbreak of losing yet more loved ones.
When at last Azriel turned to his own bondheart, he took Ariadne’s hand and led her to Razer, where she climbed upon his back with nimble ease. All too soon, she would be mounting Almandine instead, so he soaked up every moment he had with her tucked firmly against his chest as they took flight.
The two dragons moved in perfect harmony as they turned in the air above Mhorn. As they let loose their fire, Azriel could almost see his father standing beside his bondheart, welcoming him home.
